Plymouth High School - Pilgrim Yearbook (Plymouth, MA)

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20 - THE PILGRIM ' so I didn't waste my breath. He calmed down soon and sat still for an unusualy long time, perhaps five minutes. Say, Doc, do you remember that crow that we saw at the eighteenth hole the other day ? J'Yes, I answered, what about it.' Well, Doc, said he, I was out there playing a little while ago, and noticed that crow sitting on the green about four hundred yards away, so I says to myself, I'll see if I can hit that crow. So I picked up my driver and gave that ball an awful hit. It flew like an arrow and struck the crow right in the eye and knocked it over into Jim Finney's hen-yard. Now I don't mean to be skepti- cal, but that was pretty hard to believe, so I thought I'd tell him about the time that I went hunting and didn't get anything, except lost. John, said I, I want you to understand that I'd believe every Word you've said, if someone else had said it, so I'm going to tell you the absolute truth. Last fall I went down to North Windham hunting. The day I got there I took my rifle and tramped through the woods till it was nearly dark. Then I returned to the cabin. I sat on the doorstep cleaning my rifle when I happened to glance across the clearing. I saw a squir- rel run up a wild apple tree and pick off an apple. He sat on the top branch holding it in his mouth. Well, I picked up my rifle. I didn't want to hurt the little animal, but thought I'd see if I could knock the apple out of his mouth so I fired and the bullet struck that apple fair in the middle. But the sad fact is, the juice drowned the poor little fellow. Nobody called me a liar, but I guess they would have if I hadn't been there, so we all kept quiet for a while. Suddenly Sid Akeley's voice aroused us all. Say, felle-rs, ihe exclaimed, that reminds me of the night I was playing basketball at the Cord- age, and made a basket from- Adams interrupted Sid and turned to me. Doc, he asked, why is it that a basketball player always stretch- es the stories about his good shots ? F. L. CHURCHILL '26 THE TRUTH ABOUT THE CHERRY TREE Contrary to what is now accepted as the truth, there are many young iconoclasts who be- lieve that George Washington was a real boy and no unexceptional one at that. Since the early grades when George Washington's truthfulness was instilled into me by teachers, and since the time when my parents constantly held him up to me as an example, there has been lurking in my brain, for I have one, a suspicion that George Washington must have been a hu- man being when he was a boy, and he must have acted like the rest of us. As I grew older the suspicion grew with me, and quietly I have read Washington's life in biogra- phies, encyclopedias, and personal letters. After years of diligent study, I submit what I believe to be the truth about George Wash- ington and the memorable cherry tree. This is my life work, the precious hours of my youth have been spent on it, so judge me not too. harshly. George, said the elder Wash- ington one morning, I think the cherry tree needs trimming. See that it is done by the time I re- turn.

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THE PILGRIM 19 the world like the whale might have looked had he attempted to ride Jonah instead of swallowing him. h Finally, however, the law of gravity went into eiect and Tubby from one his heavenward flights rapidly descended to terra firma and the donkey disappeared to an- other part of the field with remark- able rapidity. Three minutes- Tubby had lost. i The picnickers were rapidly making their Way to Tubby, sitting calmly in the middle of the field where the donkey had so rudely deposited him, with a piece of the animal's hair clutched tightly in his hand -and still gasping.- Hurt, Tubby ? asked one of the fellows, trying hard not to laugh. My feelings, groaned the in- dividual so addressed. You poor boy, will you have some lemonade? offered Betty's flapper cousin. Why-er-yes, thank you, re- plied Tubby gulping it down. Have another? she suggested generously. Well, it is awfully good, he re- plied. Say, Tubby, called one ofthe boys, if you drink much more of that stuff when you eat cake you'll hear it splash. Aw pipe down, will ya? Hey, Davis, where ya going? To ride the donkey, of course. That was the agreement, replied Davis. What for? asked Tubby. Why to see who'll take Betty home, you idot, answered Davis shortly, none too pleased at the prospect of the t 'ng. Well, you are dumb-bell, hal- looed Tubby, if you aren't a crip- ple. . But - Speaking of butts is a tender subject, groaned Tubby as lie tried 'to get up and then gave it up as a bad job. You poor boy, said the cousin reappearing with more lemonade and two glasses. Have some lem- onade? Well, do you know I believe I will, Tubby replied. Say, I never knew you were such a nice girl before? Banana oil. Let's go for a walk, some one suggested. Let 'em go and get all hot and sweaty if they want to, Tubby re- plied, we'll stay here and - Have some lemonade, chor- used the rest of the party laugh- ing. A. F. K. '26 GOLFI N' Golfin' has always been consid- ered a gentleman's game, but, since young Adams from Chiltonville took it up, it has fallen to a dan- gerously low level. I never play the game, but one of my bad hab- its takes the form of killing time at the Country Club, where I come in contact with Adams. One day last fall I was sitting there when he came up swinging his clubs and dropped down be- side me. Say, Doc, he inquired, what do you think of my game? I just played eighteen holes in thirty- six. I hesitated for a moment, for Adams has always been pretty truthful for a fellow who is in the habit of loafing at Les Swift's store. ' John, said I, 'Tm ashamed of you. You've played golf all your life and can't score any more than thirty-six. Why, there was a be- ginner up here yesterday and he went around. His score was over two hundred, too. Then he commenced to laugh, and I looked around to see what he was laughing at, but he was the funniest thing in sight, barring Sid Akeley, who had just arrived,

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THE PILGRIM 21 But, father, I'd like to go fish- ing. Have I not taught you to be a dutiful son, George? Do as I tell you, you hear ? All right, father, answered George, sulkily. Mr. Washington departed for town. George was sorely tempted to go fishing, but as the elder Washington was an ardent sup- porter of Spare the rod and you ,spoil the child, George conquered his desires. For being a good boy his father had given George fa beautiful hatchet, and George had never had the opportunity of making good use of it until this occasion. I George set out cheerfully for the orchard. He came to the cherry tree, standing all alone at the edge of the field. His father prized it highly, for it was one of the few cherry trees in Virginia. George felt proud that his father had entrusted the tree to him. The lower branches of the tree did not need trimming and George 'could not reach the higher branch- es, which did. He sat down on a rock and thought. For fully twenty minutes he sat and pond- ered, then he got up quickly and said to himself, How foolish of me. I'll chop down the tree, then I can easily reach the higher branches. George proceeded to do so. He trimmed the branches and went home, tired but well sat- isfied, with the feeling that a man has when he has done a hard job well. , When Mr. Washingon came home he asked for George immed- iately. His anger was apparent. George came out and Mr. Wash- ington said, Who chopped down that cherry tree ? - George said, Well er-. I said, who chopped down that tree? came the relentless ques- tion. I did, said young George, weakly. You dare to stand before me and tell me that is the truth? said Mr. Washington fiercely. Oh, father, you know I never lie, ' said young George with a hurt look. But soon something else hurt. Cries of anguish issued from the wood shed, for George received a most trying beating in that half hour. At the end of the meeting. Mr. Washington said, Now, George, I hope that has taught you a les- son. George said sadly, looking at the ground, Father, it has, it has taught me never to tell the truth. At this George went quickly out- of-doors with the aid of his fath- er's boot. I know I have attempted a hard task in submitting the above story. I realize that I am trying to undermine a story that has been accepted as the truth for decades, but after years of research work I have accumulated documents to convince you of The Truth about the Cherry Tree. ' M. TOABE '25 X A NIGHT'S LODGINGSQ When Jim Dugan., a comedian whose show had broken up, reached the door of his room he found the following note tacked on it: Don't try and bust door open. Rent due 2 weeks-2 weeks more than we trust anybody. Mean- while take the air. Your Landlord, Tim Murphy. Huh, grunted Duganf. So I'm to be treated like a regular tramp. Well, I guess I amta bum at that, with only two bits in my pocket. Following the advice of Mr. Murphy he took the air. -LVM w+'l '